


I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

by hannanotmontana



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Ashley (Until Dawn) - Freeform, Emily (Until Dawn) - Freeform, Emily being a bit insensitive about mental illness (Chapter 4), F/M, Fix-It, Jessica (Until Dawn) - Freeform, Matt (Until Dawn) - Freeform, Mike (Until Dawn) - Freeform, Wendigo-Josh, violence/gore like in the games (Chapter 4)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2015-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-25 04:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4946500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannanotmontana/pseuds/hannanotmontana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fix-It fic where Wendigo-Josh is taken to the hospital, but the doctors don't really know what to do with him. Chris and Sam try to help him, although it's hard for them to forgive. Doesn't mean they will let their friend turn into a monster. And besides, if anyone can trick an ancient spirit, it's probably these two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Work title "I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings" by Maya Angelou.  
> I, like many others, refuse to accept the fate of Joshua Washington in the (beautiful) hell of a game called Until Dawn.  
> My attempt at fixing it.  
> The rating might go up, the rest of the kids might appear - please keep an eye on the tags.  
> Enjoy!

_Hunger. Hunger._

_Human, tasty human. Soft flesh, veins pumping blood._

_Muscles tight, pouncing-_

The strap around his throat tightens, yanks him back and he tumbles on the ground, his arms are bound in a straightjacket and prevent him from catching himself.

Winding, like a worm. Back on his feet. Pouncing, again.

On the floor, again.

He screeches, not as high-pitched as Hannah did, or the miners. Too low, too human. Not enough human.

More movement. _Hunger._ More straining against the bounds that hold him.

The movement stops. He can’t tell if they’re gone or still. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the hunger.

They _will_ move again. He _will_ pounce again.

oOo

Sam turns, turns away from Chris, and Mike, and the doctors. Turns away so they don’t see it in her eyes. The fear.

She’s not easily scared. In fact, she hadn’t been scared climbing a rock wall out of a Wendigo-contaminated mine, in the middle of the night, in winter, in the Canadian Rockies.

The thing the rangers found on Blackwood Mountain, the thing they brought back – _that_ thing they call Joshua Washington.

Sam finds it hard to see the sweet, gentle boy who loved his younger sisters so much. Finds it hard to see the funny guy who was ‘joshing’ her on multiple occasions. She even finds it hard to see the distressed, whimpering mess of a boy she found in the mines.

That creature in a straightjacket is not Josh.

And yet... when it – he – sits, sunken against the wall, the left side of his face pressed into the elastic material covering his cell, his eyes closed, it’s easier to see it. The teeth are hidden, then, and the milky eyes don’t stare towards the door, barely seeing anything. He’s not snarling, not growling. He’s just a boy, paler than he usually is, and in a straight-jacket, but a boy. That is, until he senses movement and strains against the ties holding him again, teeth bared.

oOo

“Josh, uh... he’s not well.” Chris’ sounds exactly like Sam is feeling whenever she tries to think of the boy she might have had a connection with. Nowadays, it’s only the snarling creature in the cell she sees.

“No kidding,” she replies, hoping to mask her tormented mind behind sarcasm.

“Shit, Sam. I mean aside from the growly bit,” Chris shoots back and their attempted humour passes without any effect. They’re still highly uncomfortable. At least the telephone hides facial expression. “The doctors say he doesn’t eat.”

Sam feels a hollow feeling in her stomach now, too, but it’s not from sympathy for Josh’s appetite. “It’s because they don’t give him what he wants,” she manages to say.

“Yeah, I figured the Hamburgers are not made from actual German citizens.” Chris pauses. “Great, jokes about cannibalism. That’s a good first step, yes? Means we’re recovering, emotionally?”

“I don’t think anyone will ever recover from your jokes emotionally,” Sam replies without hesitation and usually, she wouldn’t have said that, not to Chris. That’s Josh’s part. They both know it’s a Josh thing to say. But Chris laughs nevertheless and it’s nice.

“Josh has been rubbing off on you,” he tells her.

_Like you have been rubbing off on Ashley?_

Sam knows, without doubt, that that’s what Josh would have said. Chris does too, probably.

“Do you think he’ll get well soon?”

Sam closes her eyes, tries to picture Josh and sees fangs and claws and blind eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Flame-thrower guy,” Chris wonders, “he must have known so much more about these things. I wish-”

“It’s not your fault,” Sam interjects, sensing despite her own troubled mind that Chris is dangerously close to falling back into the pattern of self-blame he was in after the stranger on the mountain had finally shown himself and, subsequently died defending Chris. “He’d been hunting _them_ for all his life. It was bound to happen.”

Chris makes a noncommittal sound. Then: “There has to be a cure, right? I mean, you can use garlic for vampires and silver bullets for werewolves. Maybe... thyme for Wendigos?”

Sam laughs despite not wanting to, but she also sees the flaw in this logic. “These things kill the monsters, though. They don’t cure them.” She pauses. “Look, I want to help Josh, too-“ claws, fangs, blind eyes, growling, not Josh – “but if there was a cure, don’t you think flame-thrower guy would have tried that? Or his father before him? Why kill them if you can just turn them back?”

_And if there is a cure, would we have had the chance to save Hannah? Did we kill her for nothing?_

Chris is quiet, Sam can practically feel him thinking about it. He doesn’t come up with a solution, though. Finally, they hang up. His last words to her burn into her brain, though.

_“If you want to help Josh, maybe you need to do the same thing you’ve done before.” Before Blackwood. “Be there for him.”_

And Sam really wishes she could, but she can’t because there is no Josh, is there? There is only it. The monster.

oOo

He can smell food, but it’s tasteless slobber. Cooked, the flavour gone. Greens, he doesn’t need greens anymore than a wolf needs grass or a tiger bananas.

There is meat, too, but it’s cold, dead.

_A faint memory of a bright summer day, a pool. Laughter, friends. Jessica and Emily, best friends still, lounging on deck chairs. Ashley reading in the shadow of the tool shack, Chris eyeing her ‘inconspicuously’ over the rim of his sunglasses. Matt and Mike at the barbeque, sizzling steaks and burgers, hot and delicious. Sam is floating on her back in the pool, exhausted after swimming lane after lane. Hannah and Beth on air beds, floating, too. The steaks are perfect, juice dribbling down his chin and he tries to wipe it away and the others laugh-_

Dead meat, he cannot eat it.

oOo

Sam guesses a hunger demon or spirit or whatever can’t actually die of starvation. And if they can, the doctors will be the first to find out.

She expected to see a bald head, white, bulging eyes, and sinewy limbs. A creature barely restrained.

Instead, he’s still shockingly Josh.

His hair is greasy (Sam guesses no one really wants to get to close to his head or more precisely, his teeth), his cheeks sunken in, but he’s human. Even though his foot nails could really use a trim and his fingers are permanently crooked, with sharp nails, resembling claws more than human hands.

He’s breathing shallowly.

It’s been a week since she came to see him, and almost two weeks since Blackwood. Jessica is out of the hospital, and everyone else is physically healed, too. Mentally, though...

The only people Sam has contact with are Chris, who is busy looking after Ashley, and Mike, who understandably doesn’t leave Jessica’s side. If Sam had a someone, that someone could probably talk with her about Blackwood. Sucks that her someone – the person who could’ve been her someone, in another life, maybe – is possessed by an indigenous monster and looks like the ultimate challenge for every orthodontist in the country.

The doctors don’t believe in Wendigos. But they don’t have an explanation for Josh, either, so they’re basically useless. They can’t force-feed him, his skin has hardened and cannot be penetrated by needles, he won’t swallow pills and no-one wants to get close to try another way of putting him to sleep so they can implant a stomach tube.

Sam could mention that fire softens the Wendigo skin. But then she has an image of a writhing, screaming Josh in mind, the video-feed of his prank where he’d been sawed in half. Instead a saw there’s a blow torch, though, getting closer and closer to an exposed strip of pale skin.

The thought alone sickens her and she whirls around, sprinting towards the closest bathroom. She barely makes it.

oOo

Movement. In front of his door. A smell he faintly recognizes.

He growls, quietly, but the person his hastily retreating.

He wants to chase, but he’s bound, and weak.

oOo

Chris has many feelings concerning his former – and still, despite everything– best friend Josh Washington. But it’s hard to look at your best friend when you learn about the craziness tormenting him. And when he’s turning into a human-eating monster.

There’s no cure, not as far as Chris has found out, but the Internet is useless a lot of times and he figures that if he and the others survived a night on a Wendigo-infested mountain by themselves, he might find a cure by himself, too.

Until then, it’s important to not have his best friend die of starvation.

He goes to the hospital alone. It’s lunchtime, and the cart with the trays of food for the patients, all labelled with little name tags and meal options (Meal 1, Meal 2, Vegetarian Option) is slowly being rolled down the hallway, with small intermittences when the nurse grabs a tray and disappears into the rooms of the more stable patients, handing them their food.

Chris is fidgety, but when no-one is looking, he slips on the white lab coat he ‘borrowed’ from one of the hooks in the changing rooms of the hospital. Finally, when the nurse disappears into the next room, everything happens quickly. He hurries over to the cart and takes the lid of the very last tray, the one labelled “J. Washington”. He yanks his backpack open, drops something on top of whatever thing they’re serving Josh today, and smashes the lid back on the tray just as the nurse returns.

“What are you doing?” she demands, glaring at Chris suspiciously.

“Just tying my shoe, sorry, Ma’am,” he replies, giving her his widest grin. She glares at him a bit longer, then shakes her head and returns to her duties. He almost breathes in relief, when she turns back, giving him a once-over. “Who are you, anyway?”

“I’m... new,” he replies lamely, trying not to look as if he doesn’t belong here.

“Oh, you must be the replacement for Anna. Special care, right?”

Chris nods. What else is there to do?

“You had your introduction talk, right? Because I don’t have time to go over it again.” She chuckles. “It’s easy anyway, isn’t it? Just stay away from his face and make sure the straps are tight.”

“Uh, yes ma’am.”

She shoves a tray in his hands and, when he doesn’t move, raises an eyebrow. “You waiting for an extra invitation?”

Startled, Chris shakes his head. “No, ma’am.” He turns, and finally looks down on the tray in his hands. Fuck.

The plan was to stop Joshdigos starvation by slipping him something raw, not to _be_ the food source. But the nurse is still watching, so there is nothing else to do but open the door to Josh’s room.

“Josh? Be a bro and don’t eat me, okay?”

oOo

Movement. And the smell of more dead meat and greens.

But there’s a living person. The smell is familiar, so is the shape.

His eyes are bad, the lights are too bright and his sight is watery at best. The person is white, like all the other people constantly prodding. But there is yellow, and a reflection of light on glass. The smell is familiar.

He doesn’t care for the voice, the words. He can smell fear, nervousness. Living meat.

And then... more dead meat. But different. Raw. Bloody.

There is a word, “liver”, but it means nothing, nothing as he screeches and the person drops the meat. He’s straining to get it, and then his teeth catch a bit, and he yanks his head around and wolfs it down.

It’s wrong. Cow, a part of his brain provides. But it’s bloody, uncooked, and the first thing he eats in days.

More. Hunger.

oOo

“You... want me to play nurse.”

It’s crazy, it has to be. Chris stopped by early in the afternoon and told her he’d been sneaking into Josh’s room and feeding him raw liver.

And now she’s supposed to do the same.

“Look, I know it’s crazy. But- it’s Josh. Crazy is obviously his thing. And I’ve slipped him food for the past four days. It works, I think. He eats it. And he’s still got all of his hair.”

“Mental illness is not... being crazy,” Sam tries to defend the memory of Josh Washington, but the picture of the Psycho chasing her through the lodge, taking off his mask after forcing Chris to shoot either Ashley or himself replaces Josh. The picture of a rambling, hallucinating Josh in the mines, does, too.

“Fact is, we’ve been back for over two weeks, right? And Hannah’s diary said the changes start after about four days, and then it’s bang, boom – full-Wendigo.” Chris is excited about that, Sam can tell, and now he’s talking himself into a frenzy. “But Josh is still...”

 _Not_ ‘still Josh’, Sam thinks. But she understands.

“It’s like he’s stuck in the middle,” Chris concludes. “And being in the middle means he can go both ways, right?”

“I’m not a Wendigo expert,” Sam tells him, trying not to feel the hope flare up at this conclusion. Of course she wondered if it was reversible, if there was still a Josh under all this _monster_. But now Chris said it out loud, and he believes it, truly believes it, which makes it even more real. More possible.

Chris argues: “Considering I shot the bastards and you escaped a house full of them before blowing it up, I’d say this makes us the leading experts.”

“So, what? You wanna... trick the Wendigo? A centuries old spirit?”

“It’s either us trying it, or we get Emily to yell at it for a while. Might work, too. Besides, you’re good at the climbing stuff, and I’ll... I’ll just be the mastermind.”

Sam snorts, she can’t help it. “What you’re saying, essentially, is that I’m the brawn and you’re the brain?”

“No, I’m obviously both, and you’re the sexy sidekick who gets her clothes ripped of halfway through the movie and spends the rest covered in only a flimsy-“

“Towel,” Sam concludes drily. Hey, jokes about traumatic events.

Chris looks content. “Exactly. So, tonight, you’ll serve Josh his dinner and try to see if you can get through to him. And I’ll be on my date with Ash, and tomorrow we’ll start to figure out a way to ghostbust the Wendigo out of our favourite psycho’s brain.”

oOo

Sam isn’t one of these vegans that try to force their lifestyle onto others, and she doesn’t condemn her friends for eating burgers, but there is a line, and trying and failing to put a raw piece of liver on a fork for a possessed guy she might have been into is crossing that line.

Josh – or the creature – had been crouching in the middle of the room when she entered earlier, watching her intently ever since she had slipped through the door and had placed the tray on the ground.

 _He’s just sensing your movement,_ Sam tells herself. _He doesn’t recognise you._

Nevertheless, she had said ‘Hi’ and a constant stream of quiet, gentle words is spilling over her lips noq, much like talking to a sick animal that you try to coax into eating. Except that at the sight of the raw meat, Josh shivers and looks more alert. So much for coaxing.

“Right, what did Chris say? Cut it in chunks so you don’t choke trying to wolf it down.” She tries not to breathe through her nose and smell the metallic sensation of raw, bloody liver while she cuts it up into rough chunks. Then she picks one chunk up with the fork and looks up at Josh, taking a deep breath.

His eyes are focused on the meat.

Sam fights the urge of closing her eyes, turning her head and just sticking out her arm. Instead, she slowly holds out the plastic fork for Josh. Even though she had steeled herself for the jerky movements all the Wendigos had displayed, she flinches when his head shoots forward like a snake and his fangs close around the raw meat, as well as the prongs of the fork, breaking two of them.

“Fuck, Josh, was that really necessary?” Sam hisses, momentarily forgetting that this isn’t Josh, and even if it was, it – he – can kill her with those crooked fangs and she shouldn’t aggravate him. However, the reaction of her opponent is different than she expected.

Instead of yanking his head around to tear the meat of the fork (and quite possibly the fork and two or three of Sam’s fingers, too), he freezes, his fangs still closed around the fork, but keeping his head perfectly still. He glances up at her from beneath long, dark eyelashes and if it weren’t for the eyes, the fangs and the general Wendigo-ness of his body, he could’ve been dorky Josh who had messed around with Sam one time too often and is now frozen realising he went too far.

Then, he slowly and deliberately unlocks his jaw from the plastic fork and pulls back his head, the chunk of liver as well as little plastic pieces falling to the ground. He lowers his head and suddenly Sam hears a quiet noise that sounds almost like... cooing.

If it were chips, or popcorn, Sam would’ve just picked it up from the ground and threw it at him, but it’s raw meat that’s been in his mouth seconds ago, so she tries to ignore the sounds that match a fluffy kitty more than a sinewy half-Wendigo and, for lack of more forks, drills the plastic knife into the piece of meat like a makeshift marshmallow stick.

When she holds it out this time, she notices how his muscles tremble in an effort of keeping his movement smooth and slow, and how his breathing gets heavier close to the meat, but he only slides it off the knife carefully. He does munch on it with his mouth open and extremely disgusting sounds, but at least he tries to behave himself to get it.

oOo

Sam starts humming and the part of Josh’s brain that is not the monster recognises it as the theme music to _Little Shop of Horrors_. He wants to laugh, and even though he can’t, it gives him strength.

He hungrily devours the other bits of liver and then leans back, ignoring the rest of the food on the tray.

oOo

“Can’t really blame you for not eating that,” Sam agrees, poking with the now bloody knife at the slimy, brown stew in one bowl. Josh makes a sound like a cat throwing up a fur ball, it startles Sam, but slowly the realisation dawns on her that this is a laugh. Granted, a joyless, helpless laugh, but... so human.

She eyes him intently. “Josh?”

Nothing. Then- _growl_.

“Very manly,” Sam mutters. He cocks his head, narrows his eyes. They’re more green, somehow. Still very light, but the milky hue is only a veil over muddy green.

If Sam wanted to get her hopes up, she could tell herself it means he’s getting better. But then he growls again, throws his head around jerkily and the Joker-esque wide grin with the pointy, crooked teeth sends shivers down her spine.

It’s like the grotesque version of an eternal Dolphin grin, but a dolphin that’s part shark. There’s nothing joyful about that mouth.

“I remember how much you hated your braces when you were 16,” Sam tells him. “I guess knowing you need another pair now makes up for a lot of the shit you pulled.”

He growls more, but this time, it’s not just animalistic. His eyebrows furrow and she swears his lower lip is slowly pushed forward. He’s _pouting_.

Her heart is thumping in her chest, because for a second, she can see Josh, the old Josh surface. The Josh before Hannah and Beth died, before the reunion on Blackwood Mountain happened. She continues intent on keeping _this_ Josh with her for just a moment longer. “When you get out of here, we’ll take you to the Italian place around Mike’s, you know, the one where they do that famous Bolognese sauce, and we’ll order a big bowl of spaghetti, just so you can go through the trouble of eating them with your new, shiny braces.”

The image sends her into a giggle fit (that is, admittedly, slightly hysteric, too) and she leans forward, unconsciously, until suddenly Josh’s bony shoulder rams into her and she loses her balance, topples over and scrambles to get to her feet, laughter stuck in her throat.

For a second, she stares at him with wide eyes – and for some reason, he seems just as scared as she is – and then she bolts out of the room, down the hallway and out of the hospital, away.

Josh, in his cell, whines unhappily for a long time and one of the nurses who are there, trying to figure out what set him off like that, thinks she can see something like a tear on his cheek. But she shakes her head, choosing to ignore it. It’s probably just spit, anyway. It’s not like that thing – she can’t think of him as a boy – retains enough humanity to be upset.


	2. Chapter 2

Melinda and Bob Washington, despite being incredibly busy, obviously take time out of their schedule to visit their son, their last child, in the hospital. Not that he reminds them much of their son, now – Melinda guiltily thinks that even the depressed boy would be better than that snarling monstrosity and then tries to hold back the sobs because what kind of horrible mother wishes their son was depressed?

Bob has seen a lot of monsters in his life, CGI ones, and classic rubber-and-cloth ones. Doesn’t mean he believes in them. There’s always a guy behind the mask, there’s always computers behind a snarl. So, like the doctors, he refuses to believe in the stories Joshua’s friends told the police. Traumatised, the lot of them. He also outright refuses to believe what happened to his girls. Fallen into the mines, okay. But the rest- no.

Chris watches them from afar, first, but they always liked him and even if he is not sure what to say, he feels like it might be good for him to go over. They’re hovering on Josh’s doorstep, peeping inside through the tiny window, but not actually entering. Like everyone does.

“Hello, Mrs. Washington, Mr. Washington,” he greets them and they look up – Josh’s father indifferent, his mother with slightly watery eyes but an attempted smile.

“Chris, it’s nice to see you,” she greets him. “Are you here to visit... Joshua?”

He notices the small pause before her son’s name. “Yes. I figured he might want to-“

“Hey, aren’t you the young man who’s been helping with the meals lately?” A voice interrupts them from behind. Chris freezes, hoping that maybe nurses work like Wendigos and just go away if they don’t sense movement.

“Young man, I’m talking to you!” she insists and Chris has to turn, closely watched by the Washingtons. The nurse looks angry, her hands on her hips. “It IS you! I recognise the glasses!”

“I... uh...”

“I found out that we didn’t actually get a replacement for Anna! You’re an imposter! What the hell were you thinking, sneaking into patients rooms - especially into the intensive care rooms?!”

People that pass them walk more slowly and at both ends of the hallway, a small crowd gathers that works hard on trying not to look as if they’re eavesdropping. Josh’s parents are confused.

“Excuse me, why are you yelling at our son’s friend?” Melinda interrupts and Chris wants to kiss her then and there. _Come on, Josh’s mum, save my bacon._

“Your son’s friend?” The nurse’s eyes close until they’re barely slits. “He’s been sneaking in for over a week now, messing with your son’s food! A great friend he is!”

Chris tries to protest, but is interrupted by Josh’s mum grabbing his arm and turning him until he faces her. “Is that true? Why would you do that?” Her voice is firm, but her inner turmoil shows in the vice-like grip she has around Chris’ crook of the arm.

He takes a deep breath. “It’s true.” The nurse makes a triumphant ‘a-HA’ sound. “But I haven’t been messing with anything – he hasn’t been eating for days and I was just worried so I figured maybe he needed some, uh, encouragement. So Sam and I-“

“Samantha? She was in on this?” Melinda seems more astonished than angry, but then again, Chris knows she always really liked Sam around, which was fortunate, considering how many days a week she hang out with Hannah and Beth. And... how Josh seemed slightly more comfortable when she was around after the tragedy a year ago.

“Yes, but it was not her idea. I just figured it might do Josh good to have his friends around.” Friends with raw meat, he continues in his mind. Somehow, though, he thinks he should probably skip the whole meat-part. “A-and he’s actually been doing great!” His voice cracks at ‘great’, like always when he’s excited or in a turmoil and okay, overstatement of the century - ‘great’ is not the word that anyone would use for Josh at the moment. “He’s been eating two meals a day for the last five days!”

Chris fights the urge to nervously fiddle with his glasses when Melinda remains silent, partly stunned and partly weirded out, by the looks of it. But before the nurse can add her – no doubt vicious - five cents, Bob Washington speaks up, his eyes wandering from Chris to the nurse.

“What I take away here is that two friends of my son succeeded in the job you and your colleagues are paid to do. Not only has my son been starving for days, no, it took two children-“

Chris swallows an upcoming protest.

“- to provide the simple task of nourishment. So for all I care, if they want to serve Joshua his meals, they can do it, seeing as I don’t want to lose my last remaining child, too.”

And when Bob Washington, the greatest horror film maker of the century, gives you a small speech like that, you swallow it, nod, and walk away, possibly with a small curtsey. The nurse doesn’t curtsey, but she mumbles something along the line of ‘I’ll make a note of it for the rest of the staff’ and then disappears into the nurses’ break room.

There’s awkward silence for a minute or so, before Bob clears his throat and mutters something about leaving. He nods at Chris and walks away, clearly expecting Melinda to follow. She does, but not without a last look at her son – currently asleep in a shadow-y corner, avoiding the daylight that comes in through a small window close to the ceiling – and before Chris can stop himself, he says: “Don’t worry, we’ll fix him up. It’s like that Snickers commercial. Just takes a nice snack to get the old Josh back.” (Not that the whole problem started out with one ‘nice’ snack of flame-thrower guy in the first place.)

Melinda doesn’t question why Chris says ‘we’ instead of ‘the doctors’ and she does look slightly confused about that reference, but she smiles gratefully and says thank you before following her husband. Chris has the impression that she might be the only one believing there is more wrong with her son than what the doctors think, or the police, or the other parents.

She’s ready to believe in monsters, because it’s better than the alternative – it means that maybe her son isn’t simply a nutcase, it means he can be better again, it means it’s not his fault. Or worse, hers as a parent. Parents don’t want to be responsible with how their child turns out, at least not if it’s anything that’s lass than ‘nice and normal’.

oOo

“- and when I told Josh about the whole thing with the nurse and how his dad totally wiped the floor with her, he actually bumped my shoulder! Okay, it was kind of painful since he’s like 90 % bones at the moment, but it’s _him_! I don’t think Wendigos know much about being bros.” Chris sounds content with himself, but Sam is frozen on the spot.

In her head, a scene from the last evening replays. _She’s making fun of Josh, and his (future) braces, and suddenly a bony shoulder digs into her and sends her stumbling back._

She thought it was an attack, a Wendigo spasm. The abrupt, sudden movements are a trademark of these creatures after all. Oh God – she fled and left Josh alone when all he’d been doing was... was... messing around with her. He’d been _nudging_ her!

“Oh fuck,” she mutters.

“What?” Of course, Chris can’t see her through the phone, so he doesn’t understand that his words have triggered a realisation in her.

“I think I messed up yesterday. I gotta go back and talk to him!” She’s already grabbing her things, hobbling around on one booted foot in search for her second boot.

“Take a steak with you. And stop by later so we can try to figure out what to do. The internet is mighty unhelpful so far.”

Sam agrees and they hang up. Just before she leaves her room, her eyes fall on something she really wished she had packed when she was in the mines two weeks ago. It’s probably forbidden to take it into the hospital, but she shrugs and pockets it anyway.

oOo

“Hi Josh,” Sam calls out quietly. She does her best not to cringe when she notices how miserable her friend looks, sitting curled up and staring off into the distance, his unseeing eyes not even focusing on her when she moves. He’s either giving her the silent treatment, or he’s actually sad. Neither seems very probable for a Wendigo – but that’s the point, isn’t it? This is not a Wendigo. This is Josh.

She drops her backpack on a chair and then sits down cross-legged in front of him. There are chairs, there is even a bed (even though Josh apparently doesn’t use it), but she wants to be close, she needs to show him she understands. Understands that he didn’t try to hurt her yesterday.

“I’m sorry I ran off yesterday. You... surprised me.” He still doesn’t look up, his face half-buried behind his knees, his fangs hidden. The position must be highly uncomfortable, considering he’s still wearing the straight-jacket. But he doesn’t even shift his weight.

“I’m not sure you realise it, but this is quite possibly the first time you’re stronger than me,” she teases – and that actually causes him to focus on her suddenly. He actually raises an eyebrow.

Sam can’t help it, she laughs. “Haha, don’t give me that look, Washington! I know you like to tease Chris about sports class, but Mike told me you guys skipped together more often than actually attending. You’re arms are spaghetti, and you know it.”

Josh growls unwillingly and finally lifts his head, glaring at her. It’s horrifying all of the sudden, with his fangs now in clear sight, but Sam refuses, outright refuses, to be scared off again.

Of course, her words are not exactly true. She knows what Josh can do – when he chased her through the lodge as the Psycho, she had to give everything to escape and she realises that if he had caught her, the outcome of that struggle would probably have turned around in Josh’s favour.

But she had promised herself not to think about it anymore – while going off his meds was a genuinely fucking stupid thing to do, and the whole Psycho thing was so messed up, part of her understands how his mind settled on that plan. And she has forgiven him, deep down inside, she has.

Sam still shivers when she’s in the bathroom alone, and turns the music down so she can keep an ear out for _whatever_. She still startles when someone bursts into a room unexpectedly.

She’s still angry at Josh for following through with his twisted plan instead of just _talking_ to her, like he had before. She’s mad at him betraying her trust. But she knows she’ll always be there for him, because if you truly care for someone, you don’t just stop when he’s in a time of need.

Plus, the whole Wendigo-situation now is really not his own fault.

“Until you don’t disagree, I’ll just take your silence as an agreement to my superior physique,” Sam concludes and Josh growls again, quietly, but he shakes his head and it’s almost smooth. She continues to tell him random things – they’re back at uni, but in the anonymity of the big campus, no one really recognises them as ‘The Survivors’ – and she also tells him about the showdown between his parents, the nurse, and Chris, even though he obviously knows that story already.

He remains impassive at the mention of both, the nurse and his parents, but Chris’ name makes him perk up, like a dog that heard the mailman at the front door.

“Oh, sure, when I mention Chris, you get all excited,” Sam fake-pouts and he cocks his head at her before making the quiet cooing sounds again. He won’t speak, but he can express himself well enough for Sam to understand.

oOo

The prey – not the prey, Sam, Sammy, Samantha, NOT the prey – moves towards her bag. Josh can see her, and the bag. He can see colours like on a faded photograph, and she doesn’t glow as much anymore when she moves.

She’s Sam, most of the time. Not prey. Sam.

But then there’s a box, and meat again, and the thoughts of colours and Sam fade into hunger hunger hunger.

She says something, he doesn’t understand. Then she inches closer. He’s keenly focused on the meat in the box she sat down on the floor behind her. She reaches out.

He feels her fingers at the straps that are holding him down, but he is so focused on the box with the meat as if his sheer willpower might open the lid and have the juicy steak hover over to him.

Then – freedom. The tightness around his arms and chest is suddenly gone, and he rolls his shoulders before he jumps up.

She – Sam, Sam, _not_ the prey, Sam – stumbles backwards, but he’s already on his feet and his instincts kick in. He backs away, until he can feel cold, hard walls along his spine. Josh whirls around, feels the wall under his fingers and toes. And he scales it. Up.

It feels natural; he’ll be up on the ceiling. And then he’ll pounce.

Only a bit further-

Suddenly he loses his grip, he blinks in confusion, and then there’s only air all around him as he falls.

oOo

In a second, Josh is backed up against the wall and his head jerks around before he turns and scales it like it’s NOT white and very slippery and _a goddamn hospital wall_.

Okay, so untying the straight-jacket was stupid, probably, but Sam figured Josh can eat on his own. He’s not a monster, she really firmly believes it, despite visual contradictions. She figured that in order to retain humanity, he must feel like a human, not a monster or a lunatic. But obviously a bit of insanity has rubbed off on Sam, because it turned out to be a fucking stupid idea and now he’s pulling a demon-y scaling act.

Sam watches in horror how Josh crawls up the wall like the other Wendigos she’s seen, arms and legs moving at unnatural angles and-

Suddenly he stops, about as far up the wall as her eyelevel, and she can see how his left foot slowly slides on the surface, then his right hand does and then he’s just falling off the wall backwards like a fly that’s been hit. Just falls down and lands on his back with a THUMP, arms and legs spread out. He’s wriggling, and groaning slightly. And he looks exactly like an upturned beetle.

She just starts laughing.

Sam can’t help herself. Josh had tried to climb up the wall and just failed spectacularly, falling off because he’s _not_ a Wendigo, he’s a fucking human being, and human beings don’t climb walls like that.

He’s blinking, his moth twisted into an annoyed scowl, even with the fangs still very prominent. And Sam just can’t stop laughing.

“Ow.”

Instantly, Sam stops laughing. She blinks, twice, and stares at her friend who’s still lying on the floor and is now jerkily rubbing the back of his head.

“Josh?”

At the sound of her voice now forming words instead of laughter, he looks up.

“Did you just say ‘ow’?”

He growls and goes back to rubbing his head, but he repeats, slightly whineier, “ow.”

Sam’s heart is thumping hard in her chest and she can’t hide the smile that’s spreading on her face. Josh is speaking. Still growling, yes, but also speaking. In an attempt to compose herself, she turns halfway away and closes her eyes for a second, hugging herself. This time, not out of fear. Out of happiness. She feels the pocket knife in her jacket pocket. The one she took with her earlier... in case.

In case of what? In case of Josh attacking her? Would she really have stabbed her friend? What was she even thinking? Now she’s glad she didn’t pull it out when he did his Emily Rose number up the wall. It also confirms her in one determination: get the old Josh, her Josh, back as soon as possible. So Sam won’t ever be forced to face the decision of if Wendigo-Josh attacked her, would she stab him or not.

She turns back and Josh is still rubbing the back of his head, although he’s pushed himself up on one elbow. With only the shortest amount of thinking ‘please don’t bite my fingers off’, Sam sticks out her hand, offering to pull him to his feet.

He looks at her outstretched hand. Comes closer with his face, sniffs. And then he licks her palm.

“Ew, Josh, you creep!”

Sam makes a face and bends down to wipe her sticky hand at Josh’s hospital-white trousers. Considering the way he smells, the slightly wet stain can probably considered an improvement.

Again, she sticks out her hand and tells him: “Grab it!”

What neither of them has taken into account is that while he can’t scale walls, he is still much stronger than any human. So when this time his hand closes around Sam’s – vice-like, almost painful – and she tries to tug, his muscles tighten, too, and instead of pulling him off the floor, he pulls her down.

She tumbles down, right on top of him, hits his chest like an eight-wheeler and they roll to the side in a jumble of limbs.

Sam groans, as does Josh, but she doesn’t try to move, realising how incredibly close she is all of the sudden. She can see tiny flecks of gold in his green eyes that are still veiled by milky white. She can count eyelashes if she wants to. Or she can stare at the saliva covering the very pointy fangs in the maw that, up close, is even more terrifying because there’s a faint smell of blood and raw meat in his puffing breath.

But there is also the strong line of his jaw that Sam knows best because in quiet, dark nights, when they had talked about the twins, had mourned their loss together, she had tucked her head there, pressed up in the gentle curve of his neck, feeling the slight press of his jaw on top of her skull.

What she also notices this close is the grime that’s covering his skin, and the grease in his hair. She supposes it’s what happens when you don’t care about washing yourself and no-one else dares to hose you down due to you being terrifying.

It might not be his fault but still- “You’re really gross, Josh,” she tells him and makes a point of sniffing and making a face.

He pushes her – not in a ‘kill-the-puny-human’ way but in a ‘watch-it’ way – and repeats: “Ow.” He even attempts to clutch his heart, though his crooked fingers, clawlike, rip his flimsy white shirt apart in the progress.

Sam smiles and shakes her head. Also- “Your heart’s on the other side, jerk.”

oOo

Chris groans and looks up from his laptop where about 15 tabs about Wendigos are currently open, forcing the machine to the very edge of its work capacity. His eyes are shiny and slightly red and he looks about as tired as Sam feels.

They’ve been at it for hours but aside from monster horror TV shows and crazy lunatic theories, all of which have barely something in common with the very real horror on Blackwood Mountain, they’ve come to no real solution.

Well, that’s not exactly true. They have one idea, but that involves... involvement. Of the others. Something Chris and Sam realise is about as impossible as going vegan for Wendigos.

Ashley knows what Chris is doing, she even knows Sam is involved, but she just cannot forgive Josh for the horror he put her and Chris through. Sam has seen it – whenever Chris so much as mentions Josh’s name, she wraps her arms around herself and her eyes flinch towards possible exits as if she expects him to burst in, full Psycho-attire, and chase her. Maybe, with a lot of time and apologies, she might start to come around again, but it’s too fresh.

Matt and Emily, as well as Jessica, are easier on him, mostly because they didn’t suffer directly under his prank. They were busier surviving Wendigos. Still, had Josh not hidden the cable-car key, they would’ve been able to escape, and the knowledge that he probably had something in store for them, too, keeps them at bay.

And Mike... Sam has the feeling that despite all the aggression he showed towards Josh, he now starts to over-think things. The prank on Hannah that started it all, and then leaving Josh in the mines. He is right in the fact that going after Hannah when she caught Josh would have been suicide, most likely. Especially since no-one can tell if Hannah would have still harboured positive feelings for Mike or would have recognised him as the core of the elaborate prank that ultimately led to Beth’s and her disappearance. Considering the violent tendencies of the Wendigos, probably the latter.

But Mike can’t leave Jessica, and how Josh would react on seeing him is another completely different matter. At the moment, there’s not much love between them.

“I don’t think we’ll find a solution tonight,” Sam finally states, stifling another yawn. “How about we just concentrate on the most pressing matter – Josh smells like he’s been dead for a while.”

“That’s just musk. Very manly.” Chris flexes his muscles and grunts in what he apparently hopes for is a ‘manly’ manner and Sam snorts.

“If you like the smell so much, you won’t have a problem getting up close and personal with him,” she retorts. “It’s like having a shower after gym. Not that either of you knows much about it.”

Chris makes a face at her. “Can’t we just hose him down? I don’t get why I have to be in the same shower stall.”

“He licked my hand when I tried to help him up. If he doesn’t understand that simple gesture, how do you think we’ll make him have a shower?”

Sam has point. Chris just tries to worm himself out because as much as he cares about his best friend, the idea of getting into a shower stall with a half-Wendigo is simply not on his bucket list. But Sam won’t budge, no matter how much he tries, so finally he agrees to do it.

At least that’ll settle one question. “Do you think boy Wendigos have dicks?”


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay, bro, this doesn’t have to be awkward. Take off your clothes, don’t eat me and let me keep my eyes on the wall.” Chris’ voice is muffled through the bathroom door, but Sam can hear him anyway. She was the one who’d coaxed Josh into the little built-in bathroom in his hospital room in the first place, and now Chris’ work began. However, his request was met with silence from Josh’s side.

“Josh, come on- oh, for fucks sake. Take off your shirt man.”

Silence. Then – _RRRRRIP_.

“Well, that’s one way. Hey Sam, is he as gentle when he takes off your clothes?”

Sam rolls her eyes even though there’s no one to see it. “Hardy-har, Chris. What are you guys even doing in there?” she calls through the door.

“Josh is demonstrating his fine motor skills by ripping off his shirt instead of taking it off.”

“You do realise he doesn’t have anything else to change into, right? He kind of needs his shirt.”

 _RRRRRIP_.

Sam counts to three before she asks: “... Chris?”

“Uh, I guess you don’t wanna hear what he ripped off now.” He pauses for a moment. “Turns out boy Wendigos do have dicks.”

Sam bursts out into laughter involuntarily. She really doesn’t want to be amused because they should be taking a shower and not mess around, but she can only imagine the scene that’s going on in the bathroom, and Chris’ final comment just did it for her.

Chris pokes his head out of the bathroom, for _some_ reason he’s shirtless, his hair is in disarray and he’s glaring at Sam, who holds her stomach in a desperate attempt to stop giggling. “The things I have seen, Sam! The _things_. I have _seen_.”

Then he disappears again, and Sam calms down enough to hear: “Okay, Josh. Just... stay till and stand under the water.”

Naked feet are lumbering across the tiles and then the water turns on. It’s loud and drowns out anything Chris tells his friend. However, it doesn’t drown out the extremely high-pitched screech that makes Sam’s ears ring and quickly puts an end to her laughter.

What’s wrong? Is Josh attacking? It sounded so inhumane, so terrified, so-

Chris throws the door open, bent forward and gasping for air. He’s soaked to the bone, the water is running down his neck, his undershirt and jeans are sticking to his skin.

“What’s wrong? Where’s Josh? Did he-“

“Josh is a fucking asshole!” Chris yelps, his voice about three octaves higher than usual – and Sam realises that the screech was not, in fact, Joshdigo. The inhuman, deafening screech came from _Chris_ , who had apparently been pulled under the freezing cold spray of water by his best friend.

“I tried to get him to lean his head back because he just stood there like a pillar, probably drowning. And the next thing I know is he pulls me under!” Chris is fuming and glaring at Sam as if it’s somehow _her_ fault, but before she can even think of a reply that’s not laughter she notices movement in the background.

Her eyes widen when a pale arm with a claw-like hand slowly sneaks up behind Chris, hovers over his shoulder for a second – and then grabs him and yanks him back with a sound that sounds triumphant to Sam, and not in the evil kind of way, but in a joyful one. It’s accompanied by the rough cough she has come to identify with... laughter.

From inside the bathroom, splashing, grunting and squealing can be heard now, complete with ‘No you don’t’s and ‘I swear to God’s and ‘Stop’s.

Finally, Chris emerges, looking like he’s done with the world for today. He mutters something about spare clothes in his car and exits the room with squelching boots. Sam calls after him to try and find something for Josh, too, before she grabs the towel Chris has dropped and inches closer to the ajar bathroom door. Josh makes no sound and no attempt of coming out.

“I’ll come in now, ok?” she quietly calls out and the door swings open a bit wider, which she takes as an invitation. _Please wear a towel_ , she chants in her head, for his benefit as much as hers. Attraction or not, she really doesn’t want to see Wendigo junk right now. Or ever, really.

Though, coming to think of it, the Wendigos on Blackwood Mountain didn’t have any distinguishing features, so maybe there is no such thing as Wendigo dicks, only human ones? Sam shakes her head – now is really not the time to get into monster anatomy, or to think about Josh’s junk for that matter – and finally steps into the bathroom.

Josh is standing on the cold tiles, dripping wet, a towel in his hand that’s thankfully covering his private parts by sheer coincidence, and his head cocked to the side, eyes fixed on her.

They’re green, beautifully green without any trace of white, even in the bright, unflattering bathroom light. They’re also blinking a lot, apparently still hypersensitive to the light.

Sam grabs a threadbare hand towel and throws it over the light bulb. It’s not a permanent solution – causing a fire in a hospital is not something Sam wants to be responsible for – but it’ll serve for the moment.

Josh coos appreciatively and reaches out for Sam, resting a damp hand on her cheek. She notices he’s still making a great offer not to move too jerkily, and to control his strength. His muscles quiver. But maybe he’s just cold.

For just a second, she lets him be, marvelling in the feeling of an almost warm, almost human hand that belongs to almost Josh. But there’s a more pressing matter at hand then her conflicted emotions for Joshua Washington. “Josh, you’re getting cold. Come on, we need to get you dry.”

He drops the hand on her cheek and raises the other arm, with the towel. Sam makes a point of staring at a spot somewhere behind his right ear while she grabs it and wraps it around his waist without looking. He stands motionless when she grabs the second towel, the one Chris dropped, and gently wipes down his arms, his back, his chest, and his legs from the knees on downward.

When she stands up again, she’s on eyelevel with a protruding collar bone and forces herself to ignore any ridiculous thought along the lines of ‘Kiss it!’. Instead, she focuses on Josh’s hair. It’s still foamy.

“Stay here,” she tells him and goes to grab a visitor chair from the main room before returning to the bathroom and placing it in front of the sink. (After all, she’s not making the same mistake as Chris and will get near the shower with this loony half-Wendigo, thank you very much.)

“Sit down and lean your head back, okay?” she instructs him and to her surprise, Josh does as he’s told immediately. He sits down awkwardly, as if he can’t quite remember how to fold his body in the according way, and bares his throat willingly as he rests his neck on the cold sink.

A thought grows in Sam’s head, something she had no reason to suspect before, but something that’s becoming clearer now. Josh seems to understand more than he lets on – after all, he did follow her request immediately. He didn’t cooperate much with Chris, but maybe the reason was because he was messing with him, the way they used to back when everything was normal and monsters didn’t live on mountains, but only in stories for kids, and Hannah and Beth were alive. And he didn’t dry himself off, even though Sam asked him – _Honi soit qui mal y pense_ – but maybe he just can’t do certain movements, or doesn’t understand some requests.

For now, Sam decides not to confront him with it, but instead turns on the water and checks the temperature before running her hands through Josh’s hair, rinsing out the shampoo. It’s an act of a minute, really, but she takes her time, runs her fingers softly over his scalp and his eyes snap shut while he starts humming, the vibrations almost visible in his naked chest. _Purring, not humming_ , Sam realises in wonder.

“We’re working on a way to make you better, you know?” Sam tells him, and he stops purring at her words, his attention on her now. “That whole Wendigo thing must be reversible. And you’re getting better all by yourself too, I can see it.”

She looks down on his face, the closed eyes framed by dark eyelashes. Green beneath, how she knows. So green. His nose is the same old nose she knows, his jawline, his forehead, it’s all so painfully ‘Josh’ the last weeks seem like a bad dream. But there is his mouth, the left cheek torn open by fangs-

Sam, who has started to towel his hair softly, stops now and Josh blinks his eyes open. She leans in closer, narrowing his eyes, and the boy in her hands remains completely still (almost unnaturally so, like the Wendigos on the mountain, completely frozen when they want to be) while she takes a closer look at the torn corner of his mouth where the fangs protrude.

Except that it’s no longer torn as much. There is still a gash, but the farthest corners look like they’re knitting together, fresh pink flesh and skin growing where a gaping maw was days ago. His teeth, too, look more human. They’re inching back together and don’t seem as long anymore, even though they’re still pointy and razor sharp.

Fascinated, Sam touches the new skin with a fingertip lightly and feels scab.

Josh furrows his eyebrows and she quickly drops her hand, apologising. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She gives him a small smile. “But you’re healing.”

He looks up at her. Sam is taller for once, because she’s standing hunched over him, still with one hand hovering near his face. He blinks and frowns, and finally, he opens his mouth to speak.

“I’m a... monster.”

 _He’s hard to understand,_ is Sam’s first thought. You need lips to produce the ‘m’ sounds, and half of his mouth, even while healing, is retracted lips and protruding fangs. But aside from the problematic perception of his speech, his words shake her deeply.

She’s shocked by him speaking, by his raspy, unused voice and the clear pain behind his words. And worst of all, she doesn’t know what to say.

Does he mean he’s a monster in the literal sense, because he’s half Wendigo? Or is he talking about a more complicated meaning – a monster because of all he’s done, of the things he said, of the prank he played? That’d mean he can remember, and think, and feel the pain he’s caused, even in his current state. That ability to remember would make him more human.

Sam is unsure of what to say, but her hand slowly comes to rest against his torn and mending cheek and her thumb strokes over his cheekbone softly. Is he a monster? He-

The question is answered by a voice from the door. Chris has returned, a balled up bundle of clothes in his hands and an exasperated expression on his face. He looks from Sam to Josh, who still has his head in the sink, and a grin slowly spreads on his face.

“You’re not a monster, man. You’re just a dick.”

oOo

Sam and Chris are at Chris’ parents’ house, in his old room, and try to find a way to cure Josh. They’ve been at it for hours now, actually. Thankfully, Chris doesn’t mention the tender moment he’d interrupted in the hospital that morning, but it’s still firmly edged into Sam’s mind and makes concentrating on the work at hand difficult.

“Okay, I have an idea,” Chris suddenly pipes up. By the looks of it, he has thought about it for a while, but realises that there is a catch. “But you won’t like it.”

And there it is. Sam’s face is steel and determination. “Will we get rid of the Wendigo spirit?”

“Maybe? I mean, I guess. I think so.” Chris shrugs. “It’s better than everything we’ve come up with so far.”

“Then it’s good enough for me. So, what it is it?”

“So, I told you flame-thrower guy told me a bit about the Wendigos, and how you can’t really stop them from coming after you, but some totems and herb clumps or whatever keep them at bay?”

Sam nods. “And?”

“They must still be there, right? I mean, I didn’t collect any, and I’m sure the Wendigos aren’t keen on interior design, so they didn’t take any either.”

Chris can practically see how realisation dawns on Sam and he raises his hands in a pacifying manner. “Hear me out! If we go up there in daylight and maybe with a shotgun or three, and a flame-thrower – a-and if we’re quick, so we go back before dusk, we could collect these charms or whatever they are.”

Sam exhales loudly and rakes a hand through her hair, momentarily turning to the window. Chris is quiet, obviously waiting for her to freak out. She’s close, really. Finally, she turns back. “Okay, even ignoring the fact that I will never ever set foot back on that mountain again – we don’t even know what these things look like! And even if we did – we’re talking a goddamn mountain! This is not your sock drawer where you look for a missing sock. It’s a mountain. With snow, and trees, and square kilometres!”

“We might not know what these charms look like, but they gotta stick out. Probably little figurines, or bundles of herbs and shit. If we just collect anything that doesn’t look like trees or snow, we should be good.”

Chris watches how Sam bites her lip and nods her head, though rather unwillingly. “Okay, suppose you’re right. I guess... I guess we wouldn’t have to search the whole mountain. Just... places flame-thrower guy didn’t want the Wendigos to go. So...” She grabs a pen and some paper and sketches a rough layout of the mountain, complete with little houses where the lodge and the sanatorium were. “Mike blew up the Sanatorium and what’s left of it is probably crawling with the remaining creeps.”

“The lodge is a bonfire pit, too-“ Chris crosses it out along with the sanatorium, “-but there will be wards around.” He draws a circle around it. “Also, around the shack where we tied up Josh-“ he circles that.

“And the cable car station,” Sam adds.

“The smaller huts, too?” Chris asks, but Sam shakes her head. “Most of them were empty anyway, so I can’t imagine he bothered warding them. The entrances to the mines, though...”

Chris shivers. “We’re not getting anywhere near these places.”

“Agreed. But maybe around the area where the fire-tower was.” They circle that, too, and now the map has quite a few highlighted areas if they also take into account that the paths between the places must’ve been protected, too, to guarantee more or less safe travel.

They both look at their makeshift map for a minute, before Chris fixates Sam with a look over the rim of his glasses. “Does that mean you’re in?”

She sighs, and wraps her arms around herself, but meets his eyes without hesitation. “Yes. If it means Josh will be okay, then yes. But we need more firepower. I’ll call Mike.”

“Maybe Matt can help, too,” Chris suggests. “I’ll call him.”

Sam nods, and gives him a small smile. “I can’t believe we will go back. A little more than two weeks ago, in the helicopter, I swore myself never to return. And now I’m going back.”

“Yeah, believe me, I’m not too keen on it either. I mean, I’m actually dating Ashley. I’m too young and too-“

“Horny?”

“- I was gonna say something more romantic, but I see Josh has had bad influence on you, Samantha. Anyway, I don’t wanna go back either. But we really need to. Hey, speaking of - you didn’t ask me _why_ I want the tokens.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. What do you want to do with the stuff once we find it?”

The grin that spreads on Chris’ face is entirely not appropriate for the frankly insane and suicidal plan of going back to the horror mountain, and Sam has a growing bad feeling about it.

“We’re going to do a little exercise I’d like to call: ‘The Exorcism of Joshua Washington’.”

oOo

A soft knock at his door causes him to whip his head around to the sound, but his heightened sense of smell already tells him who it is. Not that he has many other visitors anyway. He forces himself into a calmer state, carefully controlling the movements of his limbs as she enters.

He wishes her name would have been his first word. It could have been the beginning of something new. His new life. His second chance. Instead, he has wasted it on ‘ow’.

Still, she is here and Josh smiles inwardly. His face, however, is not ready to express that happiness.

She carries a bag and smiles at him before she dumps the content on the bed he doesn’t sleep in. He rarely sleeps. The Wendigo is nocturnal, but Josh cannot rest in daylight because that’s when Chris visits, and Sam. He also fears the Wendigo’s dreams.

They’re two. Two of them, in the same head, in the same body. Sharing the same space. Most of the time sharing the same thoughts. The Wendigo. And Josh.

What’s odd is that now that he is actually schizophrenic in a way, it’s not half as terrifying as when he was hallucinating, talking to himself, fighting with himself when he was off his meds. It’s easier to hate the Wendigo, the creature that is made of hunger and hatred and pure evil.

Sam and Chris hate it, too. They love Josh, and hate the Wendigo. Their world is black and white. Josh hates himself, but he hates the Wendigo more. And now that he becomes more powerful, now that the monster can be pushed away at times, he thinks. And the thinking is the most painful part.

‘We’re going to save you’ – Chris said it, and Sam. But Josh doesn’t even know anymore if he deserves to be saved. Maybe being a monster is his punishment. He could accept that. He deserves being punished. Maybe it would be for the best if Sam and Chris never found a way, because that way, he doesn’t have to be Josh anymore. Being Josh is complicated, painful.

It’s easier to act dumb, to act like the monster, because it means not facing himself, or the consequences of his actions.

Sometimes, being the Wendigo is even fun. When he messed around with Chris in the bathroom, it was so easy to pull him back under the water again and again, because the Wendigo wanted to hunt, and Chris was the prey.

“I brought you clothes. Your own clothes I mean,” Sam interrupts his thoughts and now he can actually smell the faint smell of his own detergent, of his own body. He smells Josh.

She waits for something, and with a faint sadness he realises he waits for him to speak. He doesn’t. He can’t. If he speaks, he might say all the dark things that are on his mind, and she really shouldn’t have to face them. His slip up the day before was bad enough.

He coos, and she smiles, even though there’s disappointment in her eyes. Nevertheless, she helps him slip into a fresh long sleeved shirt and then tosses a pair of boxers at him before she turns. Obediently he slips out of the sweatpants Chris gave him and puts on the boxers, although it’s difficult because his limbs are not made for the simple motions of getting dressed or undressed anymore.

Sam turns around again and nods in satisfaction. Then she comes over and sits on the bed with him, slips out of her boots and pulls her legs up until she sits cross-legged. He tries to mirror her but fails spectacularly – he succeeds in putting a grin on her face, though, so it doesn’t feel like failure. He sits perched on his heels now, towering over Sam even more than usual, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“I need to tell you something, Josh,” she says then and he perks up because she sounds so serious. Also, he can smell fear.

“I know- I mean, I think I know you can understand me. So if you can, listen to me.” She takes a deep breath and her eyes lock on his. She’s beautiful in her seriousness. “We’re going back to the mountain.”

_What??_

_No!_

Josh growls, deep in his chest, and he sees how Sam swallows but continues to speak: “Believe me, I wouldn’t do it if there was any other choice. But we figured out a way for you to get better, and we need to go back. Chris is coming along, and Mike and Matt – and Emily.” She chuckles sadly. “She’s still so pissed at Mike, and she won’t talk to Chris and me either, but she yelled at all of us for about fifteen minutes and now she’s coming along.”

No. Nonononono. Sam keeps on talking, but the words blur in Josh’s mind. She cannot go back there! It’s dangerous, doesn’t she understand that? He’s _not_ worth putting herself in that danger!

He growls, louder now, and then he tackles her, pins her down on the bed and wraps his arms and legs around her, pulling her to his chest. Her head is tucked under his chin and he glares at the wall next to the bed while he growls and growls and holds her in a vice-like grip.

It takes him a good minute to realise Sam doesn’t try to struggle, so he carefully relaxes a bit and lifts his head, leaning back until he can look at her. She looks sad, but serious.

“Josh, I know what the mountain is like. I know what happened to you. But I promise we will be careful.”

He growls and shakes his head, furiously, to make her see what he can’t say.

That she’s too important to die for him on that godforsaken mountain. That he can’t live with one more person dead at his hands. Not after he failed to save his sisters. He can’t have Sam die.

Sam needs to live, to be beautifully alive, and happy. He can’t allow her to die for him.

“It’s the only way,” she tries again. “I will go, Josh, for you. Because I promised you to be there for you whenever you need me. Now’s the time. We’ll get you back, and then we’ll figure out the rest.”

He shakes his head, desperately, and tugs her close again, presses her face to his chest so she can’t see the desperate tears that are pooling in his eyes now.

He had never been able to tell her, and he hates himself more now. Because even now, he can’t tell her the things he really needs to tell her. And if she dies on that mountain, he’ll never have the chance. And yet he remains silent and the only sources of warmth are Sam’s breath against his collarbone and the hot tear that’s running down his cheek.

Late in the evening, she leaves. He begs her with his eyes to stay – if not with him in the hospital, then at least at home, where she would be safe. But Sam only smiles bravely and kisses his cheek, the torn one, right where it’s beginning to heal.

Then she’s gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I woke up to so many notes, kudos and comments since the last chapter - YOU ARE INCREDIBLE!  
> Thank you so much for everything!  
> Here's the last chapter, enjoy! (Also, please check the tags, I updated them a bit)  
> Epilogue will follow before Friday.

As planned, Jessica and Ashley stay back in L.A., while Mike, Matt, Chris, Emily and Sam take an early flight out to Calgary, followed by the trip out of the city, towards the looming Canadian Rockies. With the help of Emily’s credit card (“Josh is paying me back for all of this, right? Because I’m not a monster hunt charity, you know!”) they purchase a flame-thrower, two shotguns, a torch and... a crossbow.

Chris makes fun of Emily for it until she swiftly puts holes into three of the make-shift targets at the foot of the mountain, by the cable car station.

“Why do you know how to shoot a crossbow?” he asks in blatant awe.

“Because rich kids always have weird hobbies,” Sam explains before Emily can, and even though the other girl rolls her eyes at her, she answers good-naturedly: “Says the girl who climbs rocks in her free time.”

They cable-car ride is silent, and when they exit the empty station at the top of the mountain, it’s just noon, the sun high over the trees makes the snow glisten unnaturally bright.

“Geez, it’s blinding!” Matt complains and shields his eyes with his hand.

“Be grateful for that, it means any remaining Wendigos will think twice about getting a lunch-time snack,” Mike replies grimly.

After that, they fall silent, getting down to business. The teams have been sorted out before and while Chris and Mike set off towards the lodge, Emily and Sam, who carries a torch instead of a weapon, set off towards the firetower. Matt is going to search the area around the cable car station and will then catch up with the girls. They agree to meet back at the station three hours later.

It all works out.

No one encounters any Wendigos – or any form of wildlife for that matter – and the silent mountain is almost as scary as a creature-crawling one.

It is only when they’re halfway down the mountain again that they all empty the content of their bags on the floor of the cable car and search through it.

They’ve found a couple of wooden figurines, as well as bundles of herbs wrapped in red string. These things are definitely manmade, so they keep them. Something that is most definitely a bit of deer dung (and no one admits to having collected) is swiftly thrown out of the window and they’re not sure about a collection of bones as well as a baby wolf skull that is suspiciously well preserved. They decide to keep it, too, because they figure it can’t do any harm.

The group makes it off the mountain and back to the city just in time for the last flight home and although they collectively seem to agree on not speaking about traipsing around a mountain in search for magical talismans, they feel accomplished.

The next day, they meet up at Chris’, who gives out last instructions. Ashley and Jessica are there, too, and while Jessica and Emily seem to carefully avoid each other, the tension in the group isn’t by far as bad as Sam expected. Emily even offers her former best friend a mug of tea when she gets up to get one, even though she does it wordlessly. Sam hopes they’ll get over their differences at some point, because she kind of misses the dream-team the two were not even a year ago. Emily and Ash on the other hand... that’s a whole different kind of mess. One that will likely take a long time to be fixed.

“-so we’ll meet up at 12 tomorrow. Josh’s on the third floor, C-Wing, you exit the elevator and go lef-“

“Wait a minute.” Mike frowns. “Can we do an exorcism in the mental ward of a hospital?”

“ _Can’t_ we do an exorcism in the mental ward of a hospital? I mean, who’s gonna tattle? The looneys?” Emily shoots back.

Matt gives her a look. “Emily-“

She rolls her eyes. “Fine, the... mentally challenged people?”

“Not better,” Chris mutters, but wisely out of earshot of Emily. Louder, he adds: “No one comes into Josh’s room anyway. I think the hospital should start to pay us, actually, since we do all the staff’s work.”

“What, did you empty his bed-pan?” Matt asks, eyebrows raised.

“No – Josh can use the toilet!” Chris defends himself, and adds, more quietly: “You know, at least since he needs it again anyway.”

Matt laughs. “Wait, he wasn’t shitting?” He earns a disgusted huff from Emily for that comment, but to everyone’s surprise, Mike starts laughing too. They really seem to be getting along after Blackwood, but surviving impending doom together probably does that to people. Plus, it helps that Matt returned with an _alive_ Jess.

“Glad you get along so well with the guy who wanted to shoot me,” Emily mutters, but it’s more of a formality by now. Em can hold grudges forever, but she can’t force other people to do the same, too. And Matt has matured a bit, realised he doesn’t always have to share Emily’s opinion a hundred percent. It’s done them both good, really. Their relationship might not be made for eternity, but at least it’s more or less peaceful at the moment.

Chris crosses his arms in front of his chest, staring pointedly at the ceiling. “Have you seen any of the Wendigos taking a dump? Because I’ve seen them do a lot of things, but that wasn’t part of it. Now, can we please go back to the topic at hand?”

“Uh, I think I have a solution,” Ashley pipes up. “I’m not keen on, you know, being there. I mean, I’ll go with you, but... maybe I can just stand outside his room and keep an eye on the nurses? And... get help in case something goes wrong?”

They agree to it, although neither of them asks _what_ kind of help Ashley is thinking of in case they accidentally release the biggest and worst Wendigo of all times in the middle of a mental ward with instable minds that only wait to be possessed and cannibalise.

“I’ll stay outside, too,” Jess adds and Ashley gives her a small smile.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay with us in case we need someone to incite us to shoot people?” Emily asks, glaring at Ash, but Chris calls “Hey!” and Ashley just backs away, clearly remembering the last time Emily got upset with her.

Emily truly is the Queen of Grudges.

“ _Great_ , so that’s settled,” Chris takes over. “Right, everyone else, make sure you read the instructions I wrote down for you, I didn’t spend a day talking to Native Americans and feeling guilty about being friends with the white guy who bought their mountain for you to ignore that stuff. We’ll meet at the hospital tomorrow at noon and-“

“Why noon?” Mike interrupts again. “Shouldn’t we be doing this, I don’t know, more secretively?”

“What, at midnight, under a full moon?” Emily asks sarcastically.

“Because we’re not the freaking Illuminati, dude, and because Wendigos are nocturnal. Do you want to release a weak and blind angry spirit at noon, or a bitey clawey superbeing in the darkness?” Chris quickly puts an end to the discussion before it can even erupt.

Mike nods, while Sam watches Emily biting her lip to stop herself from shouting ‘ha!’

“And finally...” Chris shuffles some papers around, “we need someone to spend the night ‘in meditation with the infested creature, to prepare them mentally for the awaiting procedure’.”

Slowly, one person after the other turns, until they all look at Sam.

“What? How about one of you guys goes to the slumber party?” she protests half-heartedly, just so something is said to break the silence.

Mike and Chris exchange a quick glance.

 _Oooh! Sleepover! C-can we order pizza_?

“He trusts you,” Chris hastily explains. “And you’re doing him good, I think.”

Sam raises her hands in defence. “Fine, fine. I was going to do it anyway. Gets me out of doing homework,” she says with a nod towards the sheets of paper everyone has had thrusted into their hands earlier.

oOo

Sam only realises how much Josh really his himself, how much he cares, when she opens the door to his room the evening before the exorcism and he almost breaks his neck trying to reach her. He wraps his arms around her and the force of his approach slams them both against the door. Sam’s head is knocked against it with a soft _thump_ and while her face contorts in momentary pain, Josh freezes on the spot.

“Ow!” she mutters and manages to ignore the pain enough to give Josh a small grin who growls exasperatedly in response and lets go. Sam figures Wendigos don’t stick out their tongues at people.

He traipses back to the bed and she follows. When they’re both more or less comfortable – the concept of comfort another concept apparently not made for Wendigos – and Josh has had his daily piece of liver (eaten with a lot less enthusiasm than before, although he still won’t touch cooked food), Sam begins telling him about the trip back to Blackwood, before she finally gets to the topic she’s actually here for.

“To be honest, I’m not even sure what I’m supposed to do with you.” Sam gives him a half-grin. “Chris said to meditate with you, but I don’t see how that is going to help. Shit, the thought of facing the Wendigo tomorrow... it’s freaking me out.”

Josh makes an affirmative sound, his eyes downcast.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that – I mean, it’s probably much worse for you,” Sam hastily amends, kicking herself mentally. She’s scared alright, but Josh is the one having to undergo this procedure, having to endure this exorcism.

She’s supposed to calm him down, not scare him!

“It’s going to be fine, Josh.” She tries to sound more confident than she feels. “Chris did a really good job on the research, and we’ll all be there with you.”

He looks up, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, Ash and Jess are going to wait outside, to keep people away and get help in case something happens – not that anything is going to happen – but everyone else has parts. Matt is going to chant something,” she adds with a giggle and Josh makes the coughing sound she associates with laughter.

“Anyway... I guess it might help if you know what happens tomorrow, right?”

He nods, slowly, and Sam is still amazed by how casual his humanity seems to surface from time to time. While she’s still watching him, marvelling in the knowledge that he’s come so far with Chris’ and her help, he reaches out for her and carefully takes her right hand in his. His fingers have lost the claw-like quality, are not as thin and long anymore. The nails are still sharp, but not pointy, and he obviously puts a lot of effort into keeping her unharmed. He coos under his breath again, and Sam is not sure if he even realises he’s doing it.

She takes a breath, but makes no move to pull back her hand. “Basically, we’ll have two circles, and you sit in one, we sit in the other. Then there is going to be some chanting and Chris is going to read some... ban or whatever. That will force the Wendigo spirit out of your mind. The natives Chris talked to said there will be three trials, where the Wendigo will try and possess one of us. Apparently it’s more of a formality, because obviously neither of us is starving. Anyway, we resist it, and it fucks off back to the mountain.”

Saying it out loud like that, Sam realises how completely insane it sounds. Ignoring the fact that she’s talking about possession and spirits and exorcisms as if they’re real, there’s the fact that they’re having a showdown with a pissy cannibal spirit and telling it to go back home.

And, oh yes, that’s another point: they’re not actually getting rid of the Wendigo. They’re just... sending the problem elsewhere. But the selfish part in her doesn’t give two fucks about it. They _have to_ save Josh.

Apparently Josh realises these things, too, because he doesn’t look happy about it. His grip around Sam’s hand tightens, though it’s not painful yet, and he seems to struggle with himself, throwing his head to the side.

Sam is uncomfortably reminded of his freak out when she and Mike found him in the mines, although this time, he doesn’t talk to himself. However-

“Sam?”

Her eyes widen and she holds her breath, leaning forward a bit and fixing her eyes on Josh. He looks at her from beneath his eyelashes.

“Yes?” she manages to whisper, not daring to blink as if the motion would somehow cause Josh to stop talking again, would take away his voice and leave her with the half-human, silent creature she has gotten used to over the weeks.

“I’m... scared...” he croakes, his voice rough and no entirely Josh yet, with a slight growl to it that is reminiscent of the beast inside.

She rushes to say something, but he squeezes her hand and shakes his head with a frown before he meets her eyes again and mutters: “I’m scared... for you.”

“Josh...” Sam starts, her voice rough now, too.

“Sammy, it’s... here. Inside my... head.” The hand that’s not holding hers is clenched to a fist and he presses it against his own temple now. “Different... not like... in the mines.” He breathes heavily and Sam can’t help herself but carefully untangle her hand from his to reach out and holding his fist in her hands, slowly leading it away from his head until it rests between them, next to his limp other hand.

“It’s here... and it’s strong. It... hates... and wants to... kill. It _knows_... what you’re doing... because _I_ know.” His face scrunches up in a agonised mask. “It’s me... Sammy... and I’m it. We’re... one. Maybe... you can’t... save me. Maybe... there is no... me.”

Josh’s shoulders sag, as if all his energy went into these few sentences. For a split-second, Sam is completely out of depth about what to say, but then she pulls herself together.

True, she had her doubts, for a while. About how much humanity was left in Josh. She was hurt by him when he was still human, the ‘Psycho’, and she hurt even more when he turned into a monster on the outside, too. She was afraid, and hurt, and it took her time to come around.

But she’s seen him recover, seen him fight his way back to humanity, with every piece of not-human liver, every stupid ‘ow’, every gesture, every restraint from moving freakily, every playful glint, and every single emotion she’s seen in his eyes.

Sam has had her doubts in the past, but she’s never seen as clear, never been so sure in her life, as right now.

She reaches out with one hand and rubs Josh’s arm soothingly. “You are Josh Washington, the awkward older brother of Hannah and Beth I stumbled into over five years ago while he was almost choking to death on a mouthful of marshmallows because of a stupid bet with Chris. You made a couple of bad choices, as did we – as does every human once in a while. But you’re not a monster. You’re not the Wendigo.”

He looks at her, silent again, and she knows he doesn’t believe it.

So she adds: “We’re gonna bust its boney ghost butt out of you, and while I appreciate your worries, they’re unnecessary. There isn’t a monster that has survived the wrath of me, Sam the Great!” She pauses. “Or, you know, a load of lead shot and a bit of fire.”

Okay, she might have _slightly_ exaggerated just how comfortable she feels about fighting the supernatural – but Josh’s eyes look less clouded now and the right corner of his mouth twitches. A wave of warmth floods Sam when she realises he’s attempting to smile.

“Besides, the Wendigo really has to go, because I don’t like to share. I mean, _Chris_ I get – getting you two apart is nothing anyone should even _try_ to attempt and I wouldn’t want to. But _four_ of us is one too many. Wendigo has to wendi-GO.”

Now he laughs, and somehow, they’ve gotten incredibly close. Josh rests his forehead softly against Sam’s. Then, he asks: “Share? What do you... not want to... share?”

And following the impulse she’s felt a hundred times before – although, admittedly, not towards the possessed version of Josh – she carefully closes the distance between them completely and brings up one hand to carefully cup the mending side of his face as she kisses Josh softly.

The world doesn’t stop turning, the moment is over in a second.

But it’s enough for Josh to clumsily kiss her back without hurting her, it’s enough for Sam to have the affirmation of Josh’s humanity, of his very human need for comfort and love, and of her own willingness to give it all to him.

They sleep curled up around each other that night, Sam petting his hair until he falls asleep. Her last thought before sleep catches up with her, too, is the triumphant realisation that not only it’s the first time she’s seen him sleep since the mountain, it’s also a sleep at night.

Sam _one_ , nocturnal cannibal spirit _zero_.

oOo

“He’s not going to jump us, right?” Matt asks, eyeing Josh nervously.

“ ’He’ can understand you, you know,” Chris tells him, although neither he nor Sam are sure about that at the moment. Josh is sitting on the ground, in the circle they drew for him with chalk, but he’s growling quietly and his eyes flicker between his friends. He has been scratching at the scab of his cheek, because a thin trail of blood is running down his jaw and they can see raw flesh under the raw skin.

“Josh is not going to jump anybody,” Sam reassures them with a quick glance at Chris and sounding more certain than she is. A part of her wishes he would speak, show them how much ‘Josh’ he really is, so that they can see him like she can. But she knows he’s agitated, and he can feel the restless, nervous energy that build up in him over the course of the morning taking over the whole room.

Not that anybody was particularly relaxed before.

“Urgh, this is so weird,” Emily mutters and crosses her arms, holding her bowl with crushed herbs loosely in one hand.

“Then why did you come here if you hate it so much?” Chris asks testily, and it’s a sign of how tense everyone is. He wouldn’t have reacted like that otherwise.

Emily glares. “Hey, it might not seem like it, but I do like Josh. Just because I don’t wanna be part of some therapeutic group hugging doesn’t mean I want my friends turn into.... _that_.” She nods towards Josh, who would probably make an indignant sound if he wasn’t so busy growling at dust dancing in the sunlight. “We couldn’t save Han, but it’s not too late for Josh. So let’s do this.”

In all honesty, Sam has wondered why Emily had wanted to be part of the Blackwood expedition and now part of the ritual, but now she thinks she understands. While Emily might care about Josh, she sees it as a way of... repentance for Hannah. The prank might have been everyone’s fault and it didn’t directly lead to the death of the twins, but... maybe, in Emily’s head, it does. And Josh is her chance to make things better.

“How about we get it over and done with?” Mike tries to focus the small group and Chris nods thankfully.

“Alright, everyone. We need to get inside the circle. Matt can move towards the back, he only has to read-“ they shuffle around, careful not to smudge the chalk line or disturb any of the tokens they have laid out to build up a ward. “Emily to the front, she needs to throw- yeah, like that. Mike in the back, too, and I’ll be front row with Emily so I don’t set anyone on fire when I light these candles. And Sam-“ he pauses and scratches his head.

The circle is too small.

“We _probably_ should have figured out the size before we drew it,” Sam comments drily. “It’ll take ages to do it again with all the stupid symbols.”

“You could wait outside with Jess and Ash-“ Mike suggests.

Sam gives him a pointed look. “No. I want to be here.” She cocks her head for a moment, then asks: “Why can’t I be in the same circle as Josh?”

Chris makes a disbelieving face. “Duh, because that’s where the Wendigo spirit is going to be?”

“Yeah, but what’s the difference between the circles? I mean, the ritual says that the spirit will try and ‘tempt us’ three times. So that means it can leave Josh’s circle anyway, and _that_ means I’m as safe in there as I am in the other one.”

“In a really twisted logic, that actually makes sense,” Matt slowly agrees with her. Before anyone else can disagree, she steps into Josh’s circle.

Josh’s eyes have been on her the entire time and now he stops growling, although he doesn’t budge and stays right in the middle of the circle. She holds out a hand for him and he cocks his head.

“Don’t you dare lick it again,” she hisses under her breath and for just a second, an amused glint lights up his eyes. Then, it’s replaced by a grim expression again and he grabs her hand, slowly standing up. He would be taller like her normally, but he’s hunched over, the hand that’s not holding Sam’s is tense and slightly crooked.

Emily doesn’t seem convinced yet. “Actually, if the spirit or whatever can cross these circles anyway, why did we have to go back to that stupid mountain and dig through deer shit?”

“Because the tokens are supposed to protect us,” Chris explains, and rubs the bridge of his nose, shoving his glasses up his forehead in the progress. “Look, I don’t understand all of it, but if they weaken the Wendigo, then go us. And if they don’t we won’t know a difference anyway.”

“Chris is right, Em,” Sam intervenes softly, and when the other girl lifts up her hands in defense and just shrugs, the argument is settled.

“Let’s do it,” Sam tells Chris, and with one final look, the two parties facing each other get ready for the exorcism.

“Makkapitew, creature of hunger and teeth, he who protects this mountain...” Matt begins to read and Sam briefly wonders if the chant is going to work, since they’re neither on that mountain, nor do they actually know what the spirit’s name actually is – that’s second-hand knowledge. But then a load of herbs thrown by Emily hits her and Josh square in the face and she stops thinking altogether, feeling how tense Josh suddenly is.

Matt keeps chanting while Chris lights an array of candles in the correct order, at least according to the old Native lady he’d talked to, and Emily keeps throwing greens.

For a while, nothing happens except for Josh’s tenseness and growling. Until suddenly the temperature in the room drops considerably and Josh screeches.

It happens so sudden that Sam drops his hand and Matt startles out of his chanting, but when Mike nudges him, he quickly restarts.

Then the room darkens, although there are no drapes and the shutters are open wide. It just seems like the sunlight suddenly looses a lot of its intensity – and when Sam looks at Josh, her eyes widen. In the gloomy light, she can see two figures instead of just Josh. There is Josh, of course, still hunched over, still dangling arms and hands bend into claws. And, like a projection overlaying Josh, is a Wendigo.

A full-on pale sinewy monster with razor teeth, no eyelids and milky eyes.

Sam can distantly hear Mike cocking the small handgun he smuggled in and from the corner of her eyes, she sees him aiming at Josh/the Wendigo. She shifts her weight, unsure of what do to next, and of course it catches the Wendigo’s attention.

It and Josh move at the same time, both of them whirling around, as if they’re motions are bound together. Sam freezes on the spot, naturally falling back on what’s worked before, hoping to become invisible. But the Wendigo doesn’t only see motion. No, it can also use Josh’s eyes. It can see her.

 _“Sammy,”_ she hears a voice in her head, and sees Josh’s lips move tonelessly. The voice is hissy, like an animated snake in children movies, but it’s infinitely more evil than any child show could be. _“Sammy... do you know what Josh wants?”_

 _Shut up,_ Sam thinks really loudly. Or maybe she says it, because Chris is giving her a look to which she can’t react. She needs to concentrate.

_“Josh wants nothing more than to eat you, Sammy. He wants to sink his teeth into your soft stomach, rip it apart, and bury his face in your guts. He wants to claw your beating heart out of your chest and devour it.”_

_Shut up,_ Sam thinks again. _That’s not true. That’s you who wants that, not Josh. Just fuck off and leave him alone._

_“He invited me, Sammy. He is mad, and desperate. He ate a man. Sammy, he was up on that mountain for not more than one night, and he ate man flesh. Nobody is starving after just one night. He is mad, and he ate a man and now he wants you.”_

_Josh can deal with his problems with his friends, he doesn’t need you. You’re just a stupid parasite with a serious skin condition that needs to fuck off back to its mountain!_ She argues, furious, and in an afterthought, she adds: _And don’t call me Sammy, you sick bastard!_

The Wendigo charges, too fast for her to react, but this time, it frees itself from Josh, who remains frozen where he is. The creature comes flying at her, grabs her around the throat and lifts her up, up, until she can feel claws digging into the soft skin of her stomach. She’s being impaled, she realises faintly-

And then it’s over. She’s on the ground, in the circle, unharmed.

Josh has sunken to his knees, his eyes staring into the distance unseeing for second, before he topples over and lies still.

Sam’s disoriented for a second, but then she sees the dimly figure of the Wendigo lurking around the other the circle. Matt has stopped his chanting, and the others remain perfectly still.

“Whatever you do- don’t... don’t listen to it, don’t move and don’t break the circle,” Sam calls out, just as the Wendigo lunges at Emily, who lets out a piercing scream. Seconds later she starts mewling and sinks to her knees, clutching at her face and crying ‘my eyes, my eyes’, but Mike steadies her and she doesn’t break the circle.

Sam only has enough time to realise that these must be the trials, as Matt struggles against some invisible hold and then desperately tries to protect his head from something. He sways backwards, but this time Chris is there to reach out and pull him back forward by the lapel of his jacket.

Josh starts screeching again unexpectedly, but this time, no shadowy figure of the Wendigo can be seen. He glares at the four people in the other circle with pure hatred, whips around and glares at Sam, too, and then the spirit breaks free, rushing through the room once and disappears out of the window with an unholy screech.

While the room slowly regains its normal temperature and the sunlight seems to intensify again, the friends slowly understand that this was it. It’s over.

Chris is the first to step out of the circle and he helps Sam carry Josh, who is thankfully only unconscious, over to the bed, where they gently put him down. He’s breathing regularly, but otherwise looks like a mess. His cheek, while still mending, is not different than before, and he is still unnaturally pale.

“So... was that it?” Mike finally says, looking somewhat unbelieving.

“I guess,” Sam shrugs. “I mean, we saw it leave.”

“Mmh ok. I just thought, I don’t know, it would make more of a fuss about leaving,” he explains but when, at his words, Emily glares at him, Sam quickly explains: “Believe me, it did.”

Before Mike can say anything else, there’s a soft knock on the door before it opens and Ashley and Jess poke their heads through. When they see everyone out of the circles, they enter.

“We, uh, heard screams?” Ashley asks carefully.

“The trials,” Matt explains shortly. “There was some... pretty intense stuff.”

It must have talked to Matt and Emily, too, Sam realises later. But what had felt like a lengthy conversation to her before must have happened within seconds, before the Wendigo attacked her. Same for Matt and Emily.

Neither of them mentions what the Wendigo has told them. Neither of them mentions how it tried to hurt them. But Emily is blinking a lot more than necessary – and then the miraculous thing happens. Jessica slowly steps closer and mutters something only Emily can hear, before Emily nods and Jessica puts one arm around her and carefully leads her over to some chairs.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” Chris stage-whispers, while everyone stare after them in awe.

oOo

At first, Josh feels only slightly alarmed about the tokens flame-thrower guy made. When Matt begins chanting, though, he becomes more and more restless and realises it must be the Wendigo feeling that.

And then he doesn’t feel anything anymore because all hell breaks loose. Distantly, he feels incredible muscle-power, limbs that can turn 180 degrees without problem and predator instincts.

The voice of the Wendigo fills his head, accompanied by pictures. Josh sees himself, nibbling away on the head of flame-thrower guy, and he would throw up, but he has no control over his body anymore.

Memories of his total breakdown in the mines fill his head and it would have been enough to drive him crazy if there wasn’t a small voice in the back of his head telling him to fight.

The voice sounds suspiciously like Sam, and then there’s a second voice, a voice telling him he’s not a monster ‘just a dick’. Josh has never been so happy about the voices in his head.

The Wendigo roars in fury, but Josh, for the first time in a long time, understands that he is loved. It’s a combination of being kissed, of being held at night, of being shoved around in the shower by his best friend, of raw liver and loosened straight-jackets.

He is still not entirely convinced that he deserves the kind of happiness Sam, Chris and the rest of his friends want for him – but they’re fighting for him and he can’t disappoint them, not again. He will do it for Sam’s smile, for Chris’ obscure humour that found a perfect match in his own. He will do it for those involved in the prank with the twins, because Josh understands now that loving and being loved also means forgiving, himself and the others. And he does it for Hannah and Beth, his little sisters that he loved so much, and that loved him back so unconditionally.

The monster in his head says he’s crazy, a nutcase, sick.

And it’s true, but he wants to be free nevertheless, so he keeps struggling, caged in his own body.

When the Wendigo gives up, Josh sinks into welcoming darkness, and he doesn’t see it pouncing Sam, Emily and Matt. He doesn’t feel it leave.

But he sleeps, and for the first time in weeks, no gnawing hunger follows him into his dreams.

oOo

Josh is almost constantly surrounded by people from the moment he wakes up. The doctors are naturally fascinated with his sudden recovery, but of course their tests don’t exactly show any difference except for the apparent physical ones – possession doesn’t show up on an ECG after all.

Josh’s father... he hugs his son for the first time in ages and Josh is so shocked he just sort of stares at Sam with wide eyes over his dad’s shoulder, while Sam grins from ear to ear.

But while Josh is swarmed by people almost constantly, even after he leaves the hospital and goes home, there are two constants in his life, and they have names.

Sam and Chris are there for him for every step of the journey. On his request, they call Doctor Hill and with the help of the psychiatrist, they find another doctor for Josh, who feels uncomfortable to go back to Dr. Hill even thought he knows now that all the weird things happening have been figments of his mind. No-one argues with Josh about it, because it’s _he_ who needs to be comfortable, after all.

With the new doctor, they work out a new medication plan for Josh, and he promises to speak up as soon as he thinks the meds are wrong or not good for him.

When summer comes around, an invitation goes out for a pool party at the Washington’s.

Everyone shows up, and Josh apologises. It’s partly an exercise from his doctor and partly something he thought he needed to do, so Sam is there with him and rubs his back in between the private conversations with each of their friends. And there are almost no tears spilt, although Sam swears she can see the sun glistening traitorously in Emily’s eyes after a grinning Josh hands her a cheque for a flame-thrower, two shotguns, a torch and a crossbow.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, the last chapter to hopefully wrap things up!  
> It's been so nice to write this and have you all enjoy it!  
> Come and find me on tumblr (hanna-notmontana), so we can cry over Sam and Josh and the gang and anything else.  
> Love, Hanna

_One year after the night on Blackwood Mountain,_

_Two years after the disappearance of the Washington Twins_

  
Josh slumps down in the seat next to Ashley. Chris has vacated it to finalise some part of the plan with Mike and Matt a couple of seats further down the bus and Sam is asleep, miraculously.

No one is sure how she manages, considering their plan for the day, but she sleeps with her head against the cold window, one arm draped loosely around the backpack that contains her climbing gear.

“Hi Josh,” Ashley greets with a small smile. They are civil with each other, even if not cordial. In many therapy sessions to which Sam and Chris have accompanied him he has worked through his fears, his conflicted emotions for his friends and the terror he has put them through. And while everyone welcomes the apologies he’s made and agrees to move past it, the horrors don’t seem to leave Ashley.

“Hey Ash,” Josh acknowledges her. “Chris mentioned you don’t want a gun? Does that mean you’ll stand guard with Emily on the outside?”

“I’m not very good with a gun. Chris took me to a range and showed me, but I only hit the target once, and I think that was an accident,” she explains. “Besides... I’m not much of a fan of weapons.”

“You do a great job with a pair of scissors though,” Josh jokes and instantly regrets his words.

Mentally kicking himself, he watches how Ashley freezes and shifts in her seat, creating more space in between them.

“I’m sorry,” he apologises and glances over to Sam – still asleep – and Chris – still talking. No help from there.

He’s taken back to that particular night, too. The scar is still there and because it went untreated for a long time due to his Wendigo-state, it isn’t very neat, but padded.

"It’s fine,” Ashley mutters and wraps her arms around herself, turning away.

“Look-“ another glance towards Sam confirms she’s still asleep and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down. “I know I apologised before, and I understand it’s not easy to forgive. I don’t-“

“It’s not the forgiving part,” Ashley interrupts him and they both fix each other, Josh surprised and Ashley grief-stricken. “I mean, you went through a lot, and I know now that you have mental health issues. Or you know, went without treatment at that time. So I guess I can forgive you for what you did. But... I can’t forget it.” She blinks rapidly and Josh, while still being surprised at her sudden confession, prays to whomever is listening that she doesn’t start to cry. “Every time a door opens suddenly, I almost scream. Every time someone raises their arm I flinch because I’m afraid they might hit me or knock me out. And I dream about you being sawed in half at least once a week.”

She falls silent abruptly and Josh just knows she’s battling the lump in her throat down. Her fingers are white from the pressure she applies holding herself.

Her words bring up the memories for Josh, too. He feels the darkness that had swallowed him at that time lap at his feet like water at the beach with the incoming high tide. Chris laughs loudly, unexpectedly, and it yanks Josh out of his almost hypnotic track of thought.

Ashley is staring at the seat in front of her, silent.

“Would you- uh, would you like to talk to my therapist, maybe?” Josh carefully asks, hoping she understands what he means.

She looks up, confusion replacing the fear and discomfort momentarily. “What?”

He attempts a smile and even though it’s sad, he feels it’s the right thing to do. “Maybe it will help you talking to a therapist. It doesn’t have to be mine, of course, but – I could ask him to call you about an appointment.” He pauses, then adds hastily: “A-and I don’t think you need meds – or maybe yes, I don’t know, I’m not a professional, I’m just good at being crazy-“ Josh grins lopsidedly, “But maybe it helps?” he finishes lamely, preparing himself for having fucked up. Again.

But after a moment, Ashley asks: “Do you think it might help?”

“Sure! I mean, you’re not half as crazy as I am.” He lets his eyes roam through the bus and focuses on Chris. “Although, you are dating Chris, so...”

“Shut up, Josh,” Ashley laughs and it’s not overly happy, not by far. But it’s a start. It’s not tears, or anger, or fear anymore.

“Hey, are you flirting with my girlfriend?” Chris calls back over his shoulder and Josh shouts back: “Don’t worry, I’m just telling her old stories about you. Like that time in fourth grade when you-“

“I have a shotgun and I will use it, you know,” his best friend threatens, but already turns his attention back on Mike, who points at something on a map.

Ashley brushes a loose strand of hair back under her beanie and nods. “So, uh, thanks for the offer. I think... I think I would like that.”

“Not a problem,” Josh affirms and they half-smile at each other one last time before Josh turns to scoot back into his seat next to Sam. However, Ashley grabs his arm and he freezes.

“So – what happened in fourth grade?”

A grin spreads on his face. He steals a glance at Chris, who is still busy, and then lowers his voice. “It all started with a stupid bet about who could drink the most soda without stopping to breathe. So by fifth period, Chris really needed to pee but we had this teacher who wouldn’t hand out hall passes for toilet visits...”

  
oOo

It’s not that easy, Josh knows it as well as Ash. Their problems, their history won’t just go away and everything is fine.

Josh realises once again how close the darkness still is, waiting to drown him again, and only meds, talks with his therapist and the love and support from Chris and Sam help him fight. It’s a start.

The weapons the small expedition purchased almost a year ago are still locked at the foot of the mountain in the cable car station and they spent half an hour making sure they work and shooting at targets for practise.  
Josh and Chris linger at the side door to the station while the others begin target practice because Chris has discovered the fake wanted poster that Josh made as backup for his Psycho story.

“You know, I gotta admit you really put a lot of effort into that whole disaster,” Chris acknowledges and tears off the poster, crumpling it up and stashing it in his coat pocket. “You’re really good at making props.”

“Thanks,” Josh replies and leaves it at that for now.

He hasn’t told anyone about his plans for the future yet – he applied for university and classes are going to start soon. Filmmaking, like he always wanted. It’s a big step, but he’s confident to make it.

But first, right now, there is one last matter to take care of.

The Washingtons are going to sell Blackwood Mountain – or to be more precise, Josh convinced his mother (who, in turn, convinced her husband) to give back Blackwood Mountain to the tribe of natives it once belonged to. At first, his mother had not been happy about that proposition, but the Washingtons really don’t need the money (which, honestly, says a lot about their finances) and while his mother still doesn’t know the truth about the ‘sickness’ he had ‘contracted’ on that mountain, she understands that it has a central role. And therefore, she granted Josh his wish.

It was Sam who initially brought up the idea of recovering the remains of his sisters.

Naturally, the group of friends wasn’t ecstatic about going back, and into the mines. But one after the other, they agreed – for Hannah and Beth, and the events of two years ago.

Research had followed, nights of Chris, Mike, Ashley and Josh hunched over computers, trying to find out if more people had disappeared on the mountain in the year that had passed – they need an exact estimate of remaining Wendigos, after all.

There had been 15 miners left, presumably all turned into Wendigos. At least one had been killed by flame-thrower guy and re-possessed Hannah. Six had been imprisoned, meaning nine were roaming freely. Two were killed by Mike by exploding barrels, and another two by exploding the Sanatorium and finding an untimely 'end by shovel' through Sam.

That had brought them down to six imprisoned, as well as four plus Hannah remaining.

Mike mentioned he couldn’t be sure if the imprisoned ones had been killed or not, so they had to remain in the game. Two were killed by Hannah at the lodge, plus Hannah herself, although she re-possessed Josh and was finally exorcised.

What the group is facing now are therefore two Wendigos definitely roaming the area, plus six potentially alive ones – free or not free – from the Sanatorium.

Assuming no one else had succumbed to cannibalism in the last year – but according to the Internet, no one went missing. Small mercies.

Eight Wendigos, eight friends. And the remains of the twins.

  
oOo

Sam knows Josh wants to be there, but he himself admitted he feels too unstable to go back in. So he will wait outside the mines with Ashley, as a sort of backup slash last frontier.

The ride up the mountain takes up more daylight than the friends want to spare. They have to go in two groups as to not overload the cable car with their weight plus the gear.

The quiet march towards the area where Mike exited the mines takes up more valuable daylight, too, but finally, they stand in front of the darkness that is the entrance to their very personal hell.

They don't hear any Wendigos, but that doesn't mean they're not there.

Sam reaches for Josh’s hand and squeezes it.

Mike begins handing out headlamps and torches that Matt lights.

"At least I don't have to sacrifice more clothes," Emily mutters.

Chris wriggles his eyebrows. "I'm sure we wouldn't mind if the girls sacrificed some of their clothes."

He earns a light punch from Ashley, a grin from Matt and a high-five from Josh for that.

"Yeah, you know, I had a stroll down there wearing only a jacket and boots, and I have to say 0/10, would not recommend," Jessica reminds them drily and while she's not exactly joking about her experience, she seems to be dealing with it well a year later.

Everybody has seen enough horror movies to understand that the right equipment can make the difference between life and death if it comes down to a Wendigo encounter.

They wear head-lamps, boots, practical clothing. A walkie talkie, lighter and torch are standard, too, and the assorted weapons include Emily's crossbow, Jessica and Matt with flame-throwers and Mike and Chris with shotguns.

Matt refuses to be the black guy who always dies first in themovies, so was the one who came up with the idea of carrying small canisters of gasoline. In an emergency, they can pour out lines and set them on fire, hopefully cutting any purchasing Wendigo off temporarily.

Finally, when there is no equipement left to check or put on, when Sam has said a silent good-bye to Josh (it's not a goodbye because everything will be fine!!), when Chris has shared one last hug with Ashley, the small group of explorers sets off.

They move as silently as possible, not talking. Between Mike, Sam and Emily, they have a fairly good idea of where to go. Matt follows in complete silence and Sam notices how Jessica instinctively seems to sidle up to him while his eyes constantly twitch around, looking for places to hide.

Emily notices how Jessica behaves, too, but instead of bitching about Jess 'getting too friendly' with Matt, she just walks closer to Jessica, too.

Sam isn't sure if that's due to their slowly rekindling friendship and the wish to make Jess feel safe or the fact that she wants to keep an eye on them both, but either way Jessica looks at least a little less tense.

When they reach the nook where Emily had found Beth's remains, Jessica can't help but sob when they come in sight of Beth's had suddenly. Mike instantly tries to shield her from the view and Sam quickly throws the white linen they brought for that exact reason over it, covering the rotting skull.

The split second has been enough to show that the cold climate has not helped with the rotting process much and Beth still looks shockingly like herself. Then the white fabric covers her and thankfully hides what's to see.  
They knew they wouldn't be able to take her head. They can take a torn jacket and a watch or a necklace on the plane, but explainig a severed, rotting head is way beyond what money can buy.

Emily wordlessly picks up the torn jacket and Sam puts it in her bag.

And then they hear the screech.

It's distant, barely audible. But it means there is at least one of the monsters awake and roaming the mines. As if on command, everyone freezes, but it's not like the Wendigo is anywhere near them - yet.

"I know where the necklace is," Emily whispers, for once deadly serious. "I'll go get it. You all stay where you are. We shouldn't move too much."

"Good idea," Mike agrees and Emily raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn't comment.

Slowly, she makes her way through the small cave over to some barrels, every step deliberate and her motions strangely flowing, as if she's underwater. Sam realises in appreciation that it means Emily controls herself as much as possible so she can freeze instantly if she needs to.

She returns to the group without trouble, but then another screech sounds through the mines, closer than the last one. Sam can't tell if it's another Wendigo or the same one.

"We should leave," Matt urges, but Sam shakes her head.

"What about Hannah's diary? I'm wearing a neopren suit under my clothes, I can wade through the water and climb the ledge."

"The thing is getting closer!" Jessica protests and even though she makes a brave face, Sam sees her hands tighten to fists.

"It's her last thoughts," Sam insists.

"About eating her sister!" Mike argues and accidentally raises his voice a bit. His mouth instantly snaps shut and they all freeze, listening for any sounds. They're met with silence.

"I'm sorry," he finally relents and Sam shakes her head.

"Forget it. It's fine. I know it's dangerous, I just... forget it."

"Look, we could do it, but there's this thing out there..." Emily unexpectedly tries to explain. "I'd be okay with going for it. But you said there is a lake. Fire will be useless when we're in the water."

"And these things are invisible and deadly in the water," Mike adds.

"Guys, I get it okay?" Sam mutters. "It's fine. I don't want to endanger us all for the sake of a diary."

"We can't get the diary," Matt suddenly pipes up, cocking his head. "But... we could take Beth's, uh, remains."

No one wants to say 'head'.

"Matt is right," Jessica adds, her eyes widening. "We can, you know, burn her and take the ash with us! It's almost like a proper burial!"

"See, I'm not just good-looking, I'm also brainy," Matt jokes and looks at Emily, who rolls her eyes, but admits: "You have your moments."

"Should we cremate her here or...?" Jess asks, but another screech, even closer, answers that question.

Mike carefully wraps the sheet around Beth a few more times until the bundle is finally more football- than head-shaped and he places it in Sam's backpack.

Sam tries not to think about the source of additional weight now in the bag.

If they moved silenty before, they positively creep through the tunnels now, every step deliberate, every motion soundless.

They're only a few turns from the exit and the saving daylight away when one of the torches loses a bit of burning wood that falls on Matt's hand, causing him to yelp in surprise and sudden pain. And, following they yelp immediately, is a screech, coming from not far behind them.

"RUN!" Sam yells, and dashes forwards with the others in hopes of maybe reaching daylight before the Wendigo catches up with them. Obviously they don't make it. Life just isn't fair like that.

Right in front of them, the Wendigo bursts through a wood panel in the tunnel and screeches. Far behind it, they can just make out the end of the tunnel and the open light, so Sam shouts with all of her might: "JOSH! ASHLEY! WE NEED FIREPOWER!", while Mike, Chris and Emily take aim and Matt and Jessica raise their flame-throwers. For lack of a weapon, Sam holds out her torch.

The Wendigo seems unimpressed and without hesitation, it lunges forward, directly at Emily, who shrieks as she fires off a bolt from her crossbow. Mike's and Chris' shotguns go off, too, but Matt and Jessica just move out of the way, the Wendigo too close for them to burn it without accidentally setting their friends on fire.

Emily has thrown herself on the ground, but the Wendigo has managed to scrape her skalp and rip out tuftsof hair. Now it whips around and tackles Mike, who tries to hit it with the barrel of his shotgun. He only succeeds partially, but the force sets the gun off and the Wendigo flies through the air until it connects with a wall.

Matt instantly showers it in flames and Jessica shakes herself out of her frozen in fear state and, seconds later, adds her own jet of flames. Mike is busy reloading, while Chris already takes aim and shoots again. While Sam helps up Emily, who is bleeding from her forehead, a new voice joins in the yelling and Josh storms in from Sam's peripheral few, swinging a rusty shovel.

However, the yeling person is Ashley, who appears alongside Josh and splashes the Wendigo with a whole canister full of gasoline. It goes up in a giant fireball, screeching madly and lashing out, but writhing in pain at the same time. Then Chris and Mike fire at it, Sam storms forward and sinks her torch into it's gaping maw and Josh buries the pan of his shovel deep in the sinewy throat, abruptly ending the screeching.

They don't linger to find out if they actually killed it or to wait around for other creatures to find them. They run and stumble through the snowy forest until they make it to the cable car station, and they all cramm inside one cable car - possibly plummeting to death seems highly unlikely after they just survived another Wendigo.

Then the adrenaline kicks in, and Sam starts giggling madly, infecting Josh and Chris, Jess, too, and then they're all gasping for air, even Emily.

"We kicked it's boney butt!" Jess exclaims, euphoric, and Ashley actually high-fives her.

Monster-hunting seems to turn them all into ecstatic, giggling teenagers.

  
oOo

Josh is the quietest of the bunch, but he is genuinely happy to see his friends laughing. He, too, has to admit he feels a certain rush at having helped in defeating the baddie, but what means even more to him than simply surviving is the fact that he faced one of his very real, very embodied fears.

He feels fine. More than fine. Free. As if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Sam showed him the necklace, and Beth's jacket. It's not much, but it's something they can bury at home, something that belonged to his sisters.

There's another thing in Sam's backpack, but they won't tell him what it is until they're at the foot of the mountain and have formed a circle.

When they tell him, his good mood evaporates and an icy feeling spreads from his stomach until he's positive he must be shaking.

It's the head of one of his little sisters.

They keep it wrapped - he doesn't want to see it, and they spare him a twisted picture of Beth that would surely fuel his already existing nightmares and fears. But he agrees to burn her, to take the ashes home.

It's hard to put his feelings in words. He tries to, he really wants to say something as Mike and Chris lower two torches to the white bundle on the ground and set it ablaze. But when he opens his mouth, no words come out.  
Then Chris stands behind him and puts his hands on his shoulders, Sam slips her hand in his left, Ashley does the same on his right. Chris gives him a gentle squeeze before moving next to Ashley. Then Jessica takes Chris' free right hand, Mike, joins her and links his other hand with Emily's. Matt moves to stand between Emily and Sam and closes the circle.

They watch the flames and the smoke rising up to a bright red sky, bloodied by the sinking sun.

There is much rivalry between them, and good memories, jokes, and so much love Josh feels like bursting. What these people have done for him is something he will treasure forever. His face is scarred on the left cheek, but they don't mind, and Sam loves him. So he can't help but be proud. Proud to be Josh Washington.

  
oOo

_The not so far off future_

'Until Dawn' is the highest grossing movie of the year and debut of filmmaker Josh Washington. It has generations - from teenagers to grandpas - scared and freaked out. The awards grow so numerous that he starts giving them away for his friends to keep - because it's not just his story, it's theirs.

And if the world learns how to fight Wendigos - even if they don't know the monsters are very real - that's not too bad. Just in case.


End file.
